


A Natural Reaction

by VenatorNoctis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath, Feral Behavior, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Pining, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, Unhealthy Devotion, chapter 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/pseuds/VenatorNoctis
Summary: Ignis feels it's up to him to be the responsible one while Gladio is away. But then Noct and Prompto run into a sort of trouble he wasn't prepared for.They reach him in tandem, tackling him to the dirt, and he tries to pull away but they're holding on so tight, and he doesn't want to actuallyhurtthem, especially not when he couldn't reach a potion to fix it."Noct, listen to me," he says desperately as he tries to twist free of Prompto's hands. "Something has happened to you, we need to cure it, and I can't get access to the Armiger if you won't let me. Please try to concentrate and let me help you."





	A Natural Reaction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lagerstatte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/gifts).



> Thank you for delightful prompts and the most welcoming, reassuring letter I've ever seen! I went ahead and combined both the sex pollen pairings because gosh, getting Ignis in twice as much trouble at once sounded like a fine idea. I hope you've had a blast with this challenge! I sure have.

With Gladio off on his own doing whatever urgent errand is more pressing than guarding the king, sometimes Ignis feels like the only adult in the Regalia. Which isn't fair of him and he knows it; Noct and Prompto do both shoulder quite a bit of the responsibility on this trip, and they've certainly seen their share of trouble. Not to mention that honestly Ignis only has himself to blame if Noct is confident in his ability to take care of their day-to-day needs without assistance; he's been giving that impression for years. It's been the most acceptable way for him to find an outlet for his feelings, and maybe he's overdone it a little, but he can't be sorry. 

He reminds himself that he can't be sorry several times as he struggles to set up their tent at the haven near the Vesperpool. Noct and Prompto are supposedly collecting firewood among the trees nearby, but from the periodic yelps and bursts of giggles Ignis has his doubts about their productivity.

After what feels like entirely too long, he manages to get the tent to stand under its own power. It's neither as neat nor as sturdy a job as Gladio would have done, but in his absence it will have to do. It will keep in body heat and keep out any rain that falls overnight. Anything else is a bonus. 

Abruptly Ignis realizes he can't hear the others anymore. 

"Noct?" he calls, straightening up. "Prompto?" There's no answer for a long moment, only the singing of insects and the distant splashing of sahagin in the shallows of the lake. "Noct?" he calls again, louder. If they've wandered into trouble while he was distracted, and nobody else was there to help them—

There's a yelp from the bushes that sounds like Prompto. Ignis jumps down from the rock slab of the haven and follows that noise. There's a crash shortly afterward, the sort it would make if a body were thrown heavily into underbrush. They haven't been here long; what if the wildlife is more dangerous than they realized? What if there were imperial troops on patrol and somehow neither Noct nor Prompto noticed them in time to call for help?

He spots movement ahead and ducks through a narrow gap between trees, emerging in a mossy clearing. Noct and Prompto are rolling around on the ground, struggling for the upper hand, and it sounds like one of them is _snarling_. Noct's shirt is torn, and—is that a bitemark, that bruise on Prompto's shoulder?

"Noct! Prompto! What are you doing?"

They stop. Then their heads snap up and they both focus on him, flushed and wide-eyed, looking hungry and feral as a pair of hunting sabertusks. Something is _not right_ here.

As the two of them scramble to their feet, Ignis reaches for their curative supplies in the Armiger. A few quick remedies should fix this.

Except the Armiger isn't responding.

"Noct, what's happened? Let me access the curatives, let me—"

They reach him in tandem, tackling him to the dirt, and he tries to pull away but they're holding on so tight, and he doesn't want to actually _hurt_ them, especially not when he couldn't reach a potion to fix it.

"Noct, listen to me," he says desperately as he tries to twist free of Prompto's hands. "Something has happened to you, we need to cure it, and I can't get access to the Armiger if you won't let me. Please try to concentrate and let me help you."

Instead of answering him Noct _growls_ , fingers digging into Ignis' hips painfully. Prompto lunges and bites at Ignis' throat, and it would almost feel sensual if it weren't so violent. A quick strike to his windpipe would stop him but it would do him real harm, and Ignis would never forgive himself for that. He can get through this. He can help them.

"Please," Ignis tries again, reaching back to put a hand on Noct's arm. "I know it's hard to think right now but _try_."

" _Mine_ ," Noct gets out, his voice roughened and low, his breath hot on Ignis' nape. 

"Of course," Ignis says, "always." No matter what happens, no matter what state Noct is in right now—and it does seem like something must have hit both him and Prompto with a status effect—Ignis is here for him.

Noct rocks his hips and grinds against Ignis' ass, and there's a hardness there that makes Ignis take a sharp, alarmed breath. When he does it again there's no mistaking it: whatever happened has left him aroused. Both of them, probably, from the plaintive noises Prompto is making against Ignis' throat.

"Right," Ignis says breathlessly, "all right, you'll be all right. Don't worry." He's not entirely sure which of them he's trying to reassure.

Noct makes another hungry, threatening noise and bites down on the muscle of his shoulder. Ignis cries out, his back arching, and that pushes him harder against the pressure of Noct's erection.

"Yesss," Prompto hisses, licking at his skin, pulling clumsily at his shirt.

Ignis tries to think, tries to plot a course through this. Most effects of this sort wear off with time if they aren't cured. He just has to get them through it safely until then. He has to stay with them—even if he physically could get away without hurting them, it would be unforgivably irresponsible to do so. He tries to push Prompto's hands away and keep him from tearing loose any buttons. Whatever's affected them seems to have made them completely fixated on sex. Noct is... is rutting against him from behind, and Prompto throws a leg over his to get into position to do likewise.

An awful, traitorous little corner of his mind suggests there's a solution for that but he pushes the idea away. No matter how much he wants Noct, has wanted Noct for years, he doesn't want it like this. Not when he's the only one who's clear-headed enough to make choices.

While he's struggling with Prompto, Noct grabs at the waistband of his pants and yanks downward. The button doesn't give and the fabric just digs into his skin. "Noct, wait," Ignis says, looking back over his shoulder. "Don't—"

He falters when he meets Noct's eyes and sees the blue glow of magic welling up in them. "Mine," Noct says again. It looks like even that much is a struggle for him to get out, as though he's been stripped down to instinct so completely that language is no longer a simple action.

"Share," Prompto whines, and what Noct does in return would ordinarily be a smile but right now might very well be a baring of teeth.

Ignis misses the signal that passes between them but there must be one, because they renew their assault in perfect sync. Prompto grabs at his wrists, keeping his hands occupied, so he can't stop Noct from unbuttoning his pants and trying again—more successfully—to pull them down.

Prompto jerks his chin up sharply and the two of them move in unison, going up on their knees and rolling Ignis onto his front. Prompto pulls back and drags Ignis' arms out in front of him so he can't use them for leverage; maybe Ignis could break his grip with enough effort but Prompto's much stronger than his small frame suggests. And if Ignis _could_ break free, then what? He's already determined he can't leave these two alone.

"Please," Ignis says as Noct hikes up the back of his shirt and rakes blunt nails down his back, his ass. "Not now. Not like this." 

In answer Noct leans down and bites the flesh he's just exposed, and Ignis flinches away from the pain. It's not—he doesn't think a lover's bite would be like this, without nuance or restraint. Noct growls, pressing him down into the dirt with a hand on his lower back. There's a sound of shifting cloth and Ignis can guess quite well what that means, even before he hears Prompto's hungry whine.

Blunt heat pushes clumsily at his flesh and—there's no point in being coy, is there? That's Noct's cock nudging between the cheeks of his ass and he never imagined that happening in a situation like this. He braces himself but it slides awkwardly instead of pressing in, Noct's fingers digging in hard around his hips.

"Up," Noct chokes out.

Ignis squeezes his eyes shut. "Anything you need," he says. This will pass eventually, and the aftermath will be so much worse for the others if they remember him struggling and protesting every step of the way. He gets his knees under him, lifting his ass and making it more accessible. More exposed.

The air is cool and damp. The disturbed dirt under him smells raw and fresh. Prompto's grip makes the bones in his wrists ache. Noct is already breathing hard. The moment is frozen, burning into Ignis' mind like the instant before his first kill.

Noct pushes. It hurts, sharp and stinging, not more pain than he can bear by any means but more intimate, more _vulnerable_ than any combat injury. Ignis keeps his head down and doesn't let himself make a sound.

Which means he can clearly hear the sound Noct makes, throaty and low, the sweetest moan he's ever heard. Ignis clings to that as Noct presses deeper into him, filling him up much more than his own fingers ever reached, the sting of the first penetration settling into a steady burn. He stays quiet and tries to relax. When Noct comes to his senses, Ignis would far rather he remember that it felt good than that Ignis was struggling to take it.

Prompto lets go of Ignis' left wrist and grabs at his hair, knocking his glasses askew in the process. "What—" Ignis starts, and Prompto pulls his head back far enough that the pressure on his throat forces his mouth open.

"Do it," Prompto rasps, shoving his cock in Ignis' face. Instinct makes him try to recoil and all that accomplishes is knocking his glasses completely off; Prompto pushes the head of his cock against Ignis' lips and says, "Yes," and Ignis isn't sure whether it's meant to be a demand or an explanation.

He parts his lips either way. He won't fight them. Prompto's cock is strikingly smooth on his tongue, and it has a faintly musky taste that he thinks he could learn to enjoy—but it feels so big, almost immediately too much to be comfortable, and he's not sure how anyone manages this. It fills his mouth, stretching his jaw wide.

Noct croons behind him, enjoying the tightness of his ass or maybe the sight of Prompto using his mouth, and Ignis would respond if he thought he could sound convincing. Then Prompto thrusts, hitting the back of his throat, and he gags, struggling to pull away. He gets nowhere before Prompto thrusts again, and choking on it brings tears to his eyes. He reaches up with his freed hand to brace it across Prompto's hips and try to hold him back, keep him from pushing so deep.

Prompto snarls at him but it's Noct who grabs his wrist, pulling it behind his back and holding it there almost taut enough to risk dislocating his shoulder. He has no way of defending himself when Prompto thrusts again, and the tears spill over this time.

No, he's not going to let this go so badly. He can't leave them with the idea that they've assaulted a helpless victim; they're both far too kind-hearted to live with that. There must be some way he can focus on the good parts and... ignore the rest. Everything's going to be fine.

He makes himself push back toward Noct's next thrust, and maybe that makes it less painful. He can tell himself it does, anyway. It's definitely not _worse_ , and Noct will remember that he participated rather than simply being overwhelmed. And it makes Noct moan for him, and he still wants _that_ even if he doesn't want—well. He's not thinking about what he doesn't want.

Noct thrusts faster, shoving him toward Prompto in a rough, staccato rhythm, and they're both too much to take but Ignis tries to move with them as best he can. He can tell how this would have been good, in different circumstances. Maybe that's enough. If he shifts his weight back far enough, leaning into Noct's hips, he can tug his right hand out of Prompto's loosened grip and reach between his legs to try to coax his cock hard. This isn't what he wants but he can make it closer, can't he?

Noct's grip tightens, painful against the bones of his wrist, and Noct cries out, trembling against him, cock pulsing. Ignis makes a disbelieving noise in his throat and Prompto's strokes falter momentarily. Ignis' cock twitches in his hand. Noct just came. He just made Noct come. Even like this, there's a little thrill to that knowledge.

"Nnnh, yeah," Prompto gasps, sounding just as shaken as Ignis feels, his breath coming in quick pants with his thrusts—and then _his_ cock pulses, too, spilling his come bitter and hot in Ignis' mouth. Ignis coughs, unprepared, and some of it spills viscous down his chin. Prompto won't let him pull off to spit it out, still filling his mouth, so he swallows rather than let the rest of it drip from his lips like that. It makes his throat burn. But perhaps now that they've both slaked their appetites—

Noct starts thrusting again, still as hard as if he hadn't just come. Ignis moans a protest as Prompto's hips start to rock again too, cock pushing into his abused throat. It's going to be all right. It has to be all right. He strokes his cock, trying to get himself hard as the two of them drive into him, hissing and snarling either at him or each other. Before today he would have been hard-pressed to name a circumstance in which he wouldn't want Noct to want him, but this is nothing he'd ever envisioned.

He's not sure how long they have him there, kneeling in the dirt and stuffed with both of their cocks. Long enough that his legs shake from trying to hold himself up and his jaw aches from holding it open. Long enough that he gives up on the attempt to get himself off; he can't manage to stay hard for this no matter how much he tries to convince his body to cooperate. He thinks Noct comes again at some point, and doesn't even slow down; the slickness at least is welcome. Prompto pushes deep into his mouth the second time, coming far enough down his throat that he has no choice but to swallow. 

The light is turning around them, and that slowly becomes a more pressing concern than any of Ignis' discomfort. As the orange light of late afternoon fades into the blue of twilight, he starts to truly worry. Neither Noct nor Prompto are in any state to fight daemons, and he doubts he'd be good for much by now either. He's trying to figure out what to do about that—if he fought his way free, could he goad them into pursuing him to the haven?—when Prompto comes a third time, much less fluid than before, just a brief spurt on Ignis' tongue and then done.

And then Prompto actually pulls out, slumping back on his heels with familiar casual grace. "Holy shit," he says, sounding pleased. And then, "Holy shit, Iggy," considerably less so.

"I'm fine," Ignis says, though the hoarseness of his voice makes a poor argument.

Prompto looks down at him in concern, then past him at Noct. "Hey, Noct! Dude, you gotta—"

"It's fine," Ignis insists. "If it's run its course with you, he must be close to shaking it off. I'll be fine for a few more minutes."

"This is crazy not fine," Prompto says, but he doesn't try to fight Noct about it, thank goodness. He digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and starts trying to wipe the mess from Ignis' face, then retrieves his glasses for him. 

And Noct finally drives in deep, hips flush against Ignis' ass, and moans through—hopefully—his last climax of the evening. Ignis holds very still, barely breathing, waiting to find out what happens next.

When Noct says, "Oh _gods_ ," low and horrified, it's equal parts relief and heartbreaking. "Ignis, I—I'm so sorry." He lets go of Ignis' wrist and puts both hands on Ignis' hips instead, gently, as he carefully withdraws from Ignis' sore hole.

"Noct," Ignis says, glad to discover that he can keep his voice steady even if it's rough. "It's good to hear you sounding yourself again." He sits up gingerly, looking over to see how Noct is doing.

Noct looks miserable. "I hurt you."

"Minor aches and pains," Ignis says. He reaches for the Armiger and now he can access it just fine, a potion falling into his hand with barely a thought. "Easily mended."

"That's not—"

"We can discuss it further if you feel it necessary," Ignis says as the healing light washes over him, "but may I suggest we regroup to the haven to do so? I doubt the local daemon population would have anything useful to add to the conversation."

Noct gives him another worried look and then nods. Ignis shifts to get to his feet and finds Prompto offering him a hand, which takes as much to be reassuring as because it helps. His clothes are a wreck, but he pulls his pants back up and buttons them and that will have to do for now.

"Okay, let's go," Noct says, turning toward the plume of light that rises from the haven to the sky. Ignis and Prompto follow, just as if this were any other evening where they had to hurry to make camp before full dark.

They make it just in time, climbing onto the rune-marked stone as the first creaking roar of a giant echoes over the lake. There's not much to feed the fire but probably they won't want to sit up late tonight anyway, if the currently subdued mood is any indication. 

Ignis goes to set up the camp stove, ignoring the way his hands shake. His injuries were minor and resolved by the potion. Any emotional fallout can be addressed on his own time. "Do you have any preferences for dinner?" he asks, glancing over at the others.

Noct stares at him blankly. "Not... really," he manages eventually. Prompto just looks worried.

"Well, I can certainly improvise," Ignis says. It seems a good time for something simple, and they have plenty of those garulessa steaks Noct enjoys. He grills them up for sandwiches, thick slabs of meat between slices of crusty bread, and maybe he has no appetite himself but that's no reason to neglect meals.

The three of them sit in silence around the low fire, and Ignis makes it through one half of his sandwich before he doesn't think he can keep going. His stomach is in knots. He doesn't even know why he's so upset. He's been injured far worse on almost a daily basis since they left the Crown City. There was no malice on anyone's part. If circumstances had been different he would have been _happy_ to do... any of those things.

"Okay," Prompto says loudly. "Is this the part where we discuss it further? Cause I'm pretty sure it's necessary."

Ignis looks up and finds Noct staring at Prompto as if he's completely stricken; he imagines his own expression isn't much better.

Prompto looks like he wants to cry, but his jaw is set and his spine is stiff. "Am I going first? Okay. I feel _terrible_." He looks at Ignis. "Iggy, I'm so sorry. We absolutely didn't mean to and I know that doesn't change that it happened, and I just—I never wanted to treat anyone like that and especially not a friend."

"It's—"

"Also if you say it's fine one more time I'm going to scream." Noct makes a startled noise at Prompto's ultimatum, not quite laughter, as if he stifled the impulse before it could escape.

"May I at least say that I'm not angry with you?" Ignis asks, and Prompto doesn't scream, so he supposes that must be acceptable. "I know this was... quite out of character for you both." He tries to pick a question that will let them keep talking without making it awful. "Do you want to tell me what happened before I found you?"

"We were looking for stuff that'd be dry enough to burn," Noct says. "I mean, kind of. I guess not looking all that hard. And we heard this weird noise, this..." He trails off, looking at Prompto as if for assistance describing it.

"This hissing sound?" Prompto says. "Like a steam train in an old movie, almost. And then this thing comes wiggling out of the bushes, low to the ground and slithering back and forth like a snake, but I swear it did have legs. And Noct freaks out—"

"What?" Noct interrupts. " _Holy shit, Noct, what is it, is it dangerous, can we touch it_?"

"Okay, maybe I got excited," Prompto says, and Ignis manages a small smile. It's good that they can still tease each other. They're not too badly harmed. "We maybe got closer to it than it wanted us to? And reared back and like... spat this stuff at us?"

"And that's when everything went weird," Noct picks up. He's looking at his hands, or perhaps looking at the ground between them. "It was suddenly just really hard to think clearly. Like nothing mattered but what was right in front of me, and how bad I wanted to..." He trails off, gesturing vaguely.

"Get off," Prompto contributes. "As soon as possible, as hard as possible. In someone. It was—you gotta understand, Iggy, it was hard to even think in words, it was—"

"Like when you're confused by a foe in battle?" Ignis suggests gently. "I know you took a shot at Gladio when those havocfangs ambushed us a few days ago, and I'm almost certain he'd forgotten all about it by dinnertime."

"But this is _sex_ ," Noct says miserably. "It should feel good for everyone and nobody should force you into it. You were trying to get us to stop."

Ignis winces. "All that is true," he says. It's his turn to stare at the haven runes by his feet while he tries to put his thoughts in order. "If I say I would go through far worse to keep you safe, that doesn't sound right at all."

"Please don't," Noct says, his voice very small. "It sucks, okay? To keep us safe you had to let us do things to you that you didn't want, and... I hate that."

"Noct," Ignis says. He'd reach out if he were sure it would be welcome. "It's—not fine, Prompto, I see that look—it's not the acts themselves that made me protest. It's that you seemed unable to make choices or communicate clearly. If you'd asked me to, clear-headed, I would have had no complaints."

"Iggy, no," Prompto says. "You can't just be like _Noct wants to so okay_ about sex. Please."

He could probably argue that—he can imagine feeling this kind of devotion without desire, and thinks he would still be willing—but there's no need. "I appreciate your desire to look out for me, Prompto. You're a good friend. But that's not what I meant."

"You mean," Noct says, and then doesn't finish the sentence. Ignis looks up at him and his expression is hard to read by firelight, but it doesn't seem dismayed. Well, any more dismayed than previously.

"I didn't intend to tell you unless you showed interest in me first," Ignis says. "I didn't want it to complicate things for you."

"Like you didn't want it to complicate things for me that I forced you to have sex with me under the influence of gross monster goo?" Noct says. "Specs, I love you but I really wish you'd actually tell me when something matters to you. I'm so bad at mind reading."

Ignis opens his mouth and no words will come. That was so casual, such a statement of accepted fact—

"Dude, you can't just drop things on a guy like that," Prompto says, and Ignis has never been more glad that Prompto came with them on this trip. "Look. Iggy. Where do you wanna go from here?"

Right. That's something he can focus on. "We should clearly be more careful of the wildlife in this region. Probably we shouldn't split up. Nobody should get close to anything unidentified, and we should all be ready to apply a remedy at the first sign of erratic behavior."

"And that's like, a good battle plan, but also not what I meant."

Of course not. That's harder. "I... would prefer we treated this like the unfortunate accident it was. I don't need or want you to apologize for actions you couldn't control." He closes his eyes. He can hear Noct growl _mine_ in his head, and he can remember the feel of possessive hands gripping tight for all that the bruises are gone. Goosebumps prickle all over his skin and he can't even name the way he's feeling. "I'd like to sleep on it before I say any more than that. If that's all right with you."

"Anything you need," Noct says gently, and Ignis' heart feels tight in his chest.

"Then I assume I can leave the washing up to you," he says, and if the lightness in his tone is forced, well, it's better than nothing.

"Aw, man," Noct answers, and he's clearly struggling to make it sound normal but Ignis appreciates the effort. "Sure. We got it, you just relax."

"Thank you." Ignis gets up from his chair. "I believe I'll retire for the night, then. Be sure not to leave anything out that would attract wild animals to our supplies."

"We're on it," Prompto says.

Ignis ducks into the tent and sits down on his sleeping bag. Alone, in the dark, he can let himself crumple. He sets his glasses aside and buries his head in his hands. It isn't _fair_ for this to have happened, which is a pointless complaint when the world is full of misfortune falling on people with no care for fairness. But to have wanted something almost like this for so long, only to have it happen like this—disorienting and painful, not intimacy but an inability to connect.

And yet it _did_ happen, and... maybe not all of it was awful. _Mine_ , Noct growls in his memory. Maybe it's not the way he wanted to surrender himself to Noct but he did get to do it, and—that feels like rationalizing of the worst sort but he can't banish the idea entirely. But it _wasn't_ what he wanted, painful and impersonal, driven by a compulsion instead of by honest desire. 

He can hear Noct and Prompto talking in low voices outside. They'll be done soon; there isn't much to clean up after a simple meal like tonight's. He should make himself presentable. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

"Hey," Prompto says from just outside, "can we come in?"

"Of course," Ignis says. He would never refuse them entry and he hopes they know it.

Prompto slips in first with Noct close behind him, and they both still seem so unhappy that Ignis wants badly to reassure them. Perhaps acting as if things are normal is the best he can do. He stretches out as though he's just getting comfortable, and Noct and Prompto sink onto the nest of sleeping bags on either side of him—usually Noct winds up in the middle, but tonight they appear to have decided otherwise. They're both gentle, almost cautious, as they settle in barely touching him. Ignis' throat feels tight.

"Is this cool?" Noct asks, one hand coming to rest carefully on Ignis' shoulder. "Not like _anything you say, your highness_ but like, actually okay."

"It is very much actually okay," Ignis says, feeling the tension strung through his back ease just slightly. "Thank you."

Prompto puts a hand against his side too, a soft point of warmth as the evening cools. Ignis tries reaching for them after a minute, and they slip under his arms so he's holding them both close. It's so unlike what happened earlier, it's as if he's dealing with different people. No—it's that he wasn't dealing with them then, and this is who they truly are.

Noct takes a deep breath, thin shoulders rising under Ignis' arm. "Do you, ah. We talked about it, and. Do you want us to... take care of you?"

"Get you off, he means," Prompto clarifies, in case Ignis can't read between the lines.

Ignis has to take a moment to think about it—to wonder what that might be like, how it would feel to have them trying to bring him pleasure instead of just using him mindlessly—but no. "Not tonight," he says. He takes a moment to be sure his next sentence comes out the way he wants it to. "If that does happen, I'd prefer it to be an experience entirely separate from today's. I'd like for that memory to be not mixed up with this."

"Yeah," Noct says, nodding. "Okay. That makes sense." He stretches up and presses a kiss to Ignis' cheek, sweet as he used to do when they were still boys. "Whenever's good for you."

"Thank you," Ignis murmurs. 

Prompto slides his arm further around Ignis and Noct follows suit, so they're both holding him close. It feels comforting. He breathes deep.

He's not really all right yet. But he will be.


End file.
